The Dark Knight's Legacy
by ninjabear2896
Summary: Set after the events of Dark Knight Rises, Blake is set to carry on the Batman legend- but he'll need help in doing so...
1. Chapter 1

Blake simply stared.

For years he had wondered what the Batman's secret hideout looked like, but none of his imaginings were close to what he saw now.  
He took in the high cave ceiling, the raised platform he stood on, the advanced super-computer to his left.  
While still in wonder at being where he was, he barely registered yet another pane rising from the floor. He looked to his left and saw it mounted on an illuminated stand.

The Batsuit.

Blake hesitatingly walked up to it, scrutinising every detail, from the high endurance boots to the infamous cowl. He took a step back to take it all in, placing his hands on his head, 'He chose me,' he thought, '_me_'.

He spun in a circle slowly, feeling increasingly overwhelmed. Thoughts of how he would carry on such a legendary name flowed into his mind.

He needed help.


	2. Chapter 2

She opened her eyes and yawned, stretching her arms. Nelya looked around at the mess of her bedroom of two years, sighing deeply before rolling out of bed.

What she needed was a life. She went to university, work and had _some_ friends but since leaving London all she did was obsess...over Batman.

It came to a point where she even managed to figure out his 'secret identity'.  
Or so she believed.

She sighed once more and shuffled un-enthusiastically to her bathroom, beginning her usual day-to-day routine.

* * *

After getting ready, she headed out of her apartment, practically inhaling a flask of coffee.

She had resumed her inner drabble on her way to work, eventually leading to the conclusion that despite the obvious infatuation with the caped crusader-and the man behind the mask- she had to move on. Move on with her studies and get a proper job- preferably one that she, well,_enjoyed_.

Nelya turned a corner and continued her journey to Gotham City University, where she was both a student and part-time receptionist. She thought back to when it had closed during the 'war', being glad it had reopened a few months after it had ended.  
It was at around this time that her fixation on the Batman's true identity began. When she first arrived, she had heard rumours of his daring battles, saving the citizens of Gotham before vanishing into the dark of the night. At the time he seemed like some sort of urban myth but after the events of this year- after seeing him fighting for his city, she made it her mission to find out who he was.

And if her reasoning and calculations were correct, she had.

Bruce Wayne.


	3. Chapter 3

Nelya wanted to confront someone about her 'dilemma'.

During her time at work and in class, she debated whether to present her theory to another human being- she had already told her cat Hercules about it (on-sadly-a daily basis), but because of the slight communication problem, she really had no second opinion.  
She had close friends, but none that would take her seriously. She was most definitely stuck between the Batman and a hard place.

Nelya sat on her large armchair, a bowl of ice cream in her left hand and a plate of chips* on her lap, occasionally dunking the chips in the ice cream and hungrily eating then.  
With Hercules sleeping on her feet she was the picture of comfort, a large green duvet wrapped around her.  
She thought of those that appeared 'close' to the Batman. There was that pretty lady in the catsuit, but Nelya didn't think she would see her anytime soon.

She ate another ice cream covered chip* and continued to ponder.

Suddenly, she shot out of her seat, the plate of chips* crashed onto the floor and Hercules went flying into the sofa to her right.

The Commissioner. He knew Batman. He called upon him himself.

Nelya laughed, surely Commissioner Gordon knew his identity too.

The only problem was how to contact him. She could go to his house, but she didn't know where he lived- and Gotham was a big city. The only way would be for her to physically visit him at the precinct.

Starting to pace about her living room, she devised a plan.  
She had to have an excuse to be able to give some indication as to what she knew.

Then it hit her.

She had to stage her own mugging.

Her head reeling, she switched on the television to calm herself down.  
And what she saw, did the complete opposite of that.

**(*Please note that 'chips' are 'fries' not 'crisps'... yeah.)**


	4. Chapter 4

After spending around eight hours in the cave, Blake knew it was probably about time he went home.

The only problem was that he didn't want to.

From the computer chair, he turned for the umpteenth time that night to gaze longingly at the Batsuit. He was desperate to try it on and go out to save the day like his long-time hero once did.  
He glanced at his watch, 11:23.  
Blake looked back up at the suit again, 'Why not now?' he thought, 'I'm going to put the suit on sometime aren't I?'

During his time here, he had trawled over all of the contraptions Bruce Wayne had made, even trying out some out, especially the automatic grappling hooks and lines.  
He was determined to know how to at least swing from one side of a road to the other.

He smiled and got up, walking towards where it stood. He reached for the mask, hesitating for a brief moment before taking it.

All thoughts of nervousness and tiredness gone, he suited up.

* * *

It took him a while, but he eventually managed to put on the suit.

He looked down at himself and felt power. The type of power that came with an extreme sense of responsibility. The responsibility to protect those that couldn't protect themselves.

He glanced at the mask on the table, picking it up. He put it on and was astonished. Every dark corner, every shadow was suddenly illuminated, when he fixated on a source of light, the sensitivity vanished, "Night-vision." he breathed.

Soon he realised he could hear the faintest drops of water, even though two pouring waterfalls were just opposite him.

The armor was extraordinary, light weight and flexible yet strong and durable. The utility belt amazed him, it boasted almost every gadget imaginable; from grappling hook and line launchers to tear gas, hand-cuffs to the well-known Batarangs.

He was like a kid at Christmas.

From his exploration of the cave, Blake had found Batman's car, although 'car' was too much of a soft word for it- 'tank' seemed more appropriate. He came to find that it was called The Tumbler, the name fitting its bulky exterior and awesome speed for such a heavy looking vehicle.

Despite his eagerness to try it out, he decided to be more conspicuous in his first outing as the Batman, and instead took the more subtle Batpod.  
Climbing on, he started the ignition. Blake slowly drove it to face the entrance he came by. Revving the engine, he drew courage and drove forwards, up the ramp and through the waterfall, riding off towards central Gotham City.

* * *

The speed was thrilling.

Blake released an adrenaline-filled whoop and raced on. He remembered that he now had to act as discreetly as possible. Gotham wasn't ready for the Batman to officially return just yet.

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't make an appearance for them to speculate about.

He came up to the outskirts of Midtown Gotham and parked the Batpod behind an abandoned warehouse, covering it with a black plastic sheet.  
He climbed to the roof of the warehouse and shot a line to another higher building. Steeling himself, he jumped forward and swung his feet in front of him. The cord tightened and locked in his gauntlet and he felt utterly weightless.  
He grinned and flicked a switch, allowing the launcher to pull him upwards.  
Blake reached the roof of this building fairly quickly, scrambling up the edge and turning onto the roof, laying there.

He got up after a few moments and looked across at the warehouse he had just left causing him to laugh aloud, punching the air.  
When he calmed down, he turned towards the city. It was hard to believe a few months ago it was occupied and ruled by criminals and extremists.  
It still was, in a way. All cities are- they're just too afraid to stand.

He shook his head, replacing the thoughts with a plan. Grinning once more, Blake set off to the Gotham City Police Department.


	5. Chapter 5

Nelya dropped the T.V. remote.

'-_Karen, tell us what's happening down there._  
_-As you can see James, the Batsignal has been lit from the roof of the Gotham City Police Department and is being projected into the sky. Hundreds have stopped to gaze at it and it is safe to say we are all wondering who started it up._  
_It is in my knowledge, James, that only a select few in the GCPD are authorised to have access to this roof because of the Bat Signal being there. I have no idea why any of them would turn it on though, the Batman's dead_.'

She stood gaping at her television screen. 'How...?' she wondered, open-mouthed.  
Shaking her head, she snapped out of her reverie, picking up the remote and turning the T.V. off before rushing to her bedroom and pulling on a pair of jeans and a jacket. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, tying her thick, wavy brown hair up in a ponytail.  
Considering herself somewhat presentable, Nelya grabbed her handbag and rushed out of her apartment, locking the door behind her.

* * *

If she had gaped at her television screen, she drooled at the actual thing.

Nelya stared up at the beam of light creating a silhouette of a bat on the clouds. She glanced down at the roof of the police department and narrowed her eyes. She turned back and shoved through the growing crowd, sneaking across and towards the side of the building. Nobody had noticed her so she quickened her pace, reaching her destination.  
She looked up and saw a shady figure pass from the police department roof to the next.

Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply, passing the long strap of her bag over her head and arm and tightening it, she saw a stairwell to her left and started to climb it.  
Eventually reaching the top, she peeked over the edge of the scaffold.

Her heart skipped a beat.

It was him.

* * *

Nelya placed her hands on the high concrete in front of her and jumped up, swinging her legs over the scaffold and landing on the rooftop, coming to face this mysterious figure. She looked left and was glad to realise the crowd could not see either of them.

He had his back to her, his head slightly inclined in her direction. She heard a bang from the roof of the police department, the officers were trying to get through the door.

She took a step closer to him, squinting to take in his outfit. She yelped when she saw it was the genuine article.  
"Er... Hi." she managed, raising her hand in a gesture of salutation, "You're 'him' aren't you? I mean, you must be, you being here and all... dressed in exactly the same suit."  
The Batman chuckled darkly, "No. 'He' is dead. I'm what you'd call the 'next' Batman." She noted his voice was rough, a hint of a typical Gotham accent apparent. She heard another bang.  
"Well, in any case, you probably knew who he really was. I don't think he'd hand over the suit to just anyone." She took a step closer to him.  
"I did." He tilted his head a little so that he could look at her.  
"Um... I know who he was as well. I-uh figured it out." Another step, another bang.  
"Did you now?" He turned so that he fully faced her.

She gulped as she looked at the Batsuit. From what she saw of the first Batman, it was real. Nelya again took a step closer, until she was now a couple of yards away from him, "Yes, yes I did."  
"Care to tell me who?"  
She raised her chin, "No."  
"Why?" It was his turn to take a small step closer.  
"You could be lying." She said, "You could be crazier than me and have developed a suit similar to the original and are just mimicking the real Batman."  
"Good decision," he chuckled, "I have to go." He glanced over her shoulder as another bang took place.  
She looked as well, noting that she also had to make herself sparse, "Yeah, me...too." When she had turned back to him, he was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Blake rode away from central Gotham, mentally beating himself up along the way.

How could he have been so careless? He was too caught up in watching the faces and declaring his presence that he paid no attention to the girl following him.  
Sure, she was extremely silent for someone climbing up a fire escape stairwell, but still, didn't he have super hearing?

He cursed and accelerated, deciding to stay the night at the Batcave.

* * *

He could not let that happen again.

He imagined what it would be like if it was someone threatening that sneaked up on him. He definitely would not have been able to defend himself, let alone _stop_ someone from sneaking up on him in the first place

He made a vow to be more vigilant. Keep his eyes and ears open and alert, to not get caught up with the fame wearing the mask came with- and to absolutely not get caught up with pretty girls who may or may not know Bruce's secret identity.

'What was up with that anyway?' He thought, dropping the cowl on the computer desk. 'How could she have known?'  
He looked across at the waterfall, 'The same way I did I guess.'

He sighed and dropped into the chair by the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. He swiveled to look round the cave, thinking about his situation and making a checklist.

Fancy appearance? Check.  
Insane-ass fangirl? Check.  
Fighting skills? Un-check.  
Insane-ass fangirl who could probably figure out _his_ identity? Check.

Blake passed his hands over his face and over his head.

Yup, he definitely needed help.


	7. Chapter 7

When she got home, she screamed.

She had met Batman.

He wasn't THE Batman, but he was pretty damn close.

Nelya threw herself on her bed and watched Hercules try to climb on to rest next to her. She giggled and picked the fat cat up placing him on her stomach, absently stroking his soft black fur as she thought back to her encounter.

What should she do now? Carry on with the mugging plan or go straight to the Commissioner about what happened today?  
There was no real guarantee if she could even catch a glimpse of him with her petty case.  
She had to try though.

Why was she doing this anyway? She didn't want to be the only one with this kind of information, but what other reason did she have?

'Well,' she thought, 'Now, I just want to meet Batman again.'

* * *

The next day at around 5:30 P.M. , after an excited-albeit sleepless-night, Nelya walked down to her grocery store, bought a carton of milk and headed back to her apartment.

She had a small bag with her with a twenty dollar note and forty cents inside.

She purposefully walked down the 'rougher' part of town, turning into a darker street, she had planned to come to as the daylight ebbed.

She wasn't nervous, just strangely _electrified_. Her vision and hearing had heightened but she felt no effects of agitation or fear, 'Thank you mother.' She thought. Remembering her endless defense classes in almost every fighting style her mother knew and trained her in. If anything went wrong, she was prepared.

If anything, she felt sorry for those who would feel the product of years worth of drills.

Looking up from the ground, she saw two men approaching from the other direction. Sure enough, they were purposefully walking towards her, "Excuse me." She said, looking down and stepping to her left.  
The taller one with two golden front teeth and a backwards baseball cap blocked her, "You can be excused, if you give me something first."  
The short one with his gaudy nose-ring, now standing to her left, blocking the exit, sniggered, "Watcha got there girly?"  
"Listen, take whatever you want, just please, don't hurt me." She pretended to start panicking, making her voice wobble and hands shake. She took off her bag and held it out to them, realising she had now been backed up to the wall.  
They smirked at each other, Shorty batting away the bag and Hat-guy moving closer to her, giving her a deep whiff of ultimate bad breath, "That's not what I was talkin' about."

He grabbed her arm.

That was it, she couldn't stand the scent any more, "Really?" She asked sweetly, all fear erasing from her face, donning an innocent smile, "Because I was so _certain_ you meant the _money_."  
The disgusting oafs looked confused and she took this as an advantage.

Dropping to the floor in a crouching position, she swung her right leg out and hooked her foot round the back of Hat-guy's leg. Forcing her body up, she pulled his leg out from underneath him. She used his momentum against him so that his face collided with her fist, pushing farther into his nose and hearing a faint crack. She smiled and rounded off her punch, causing the top half of his body to snap back and hit the floor.

"Manny!" Shorty yelled, rushing to his side. He turned to look up at Nelya, his expression was cowardly.  
"Take the money." She said charmingly, picking up the bag with her bloody hand and presenting it to him with flourish.  
Shorty nodded slightly and took the bag, dragging _poor_ old Manny away with him difficultly.

She looked up in triumph and noticed she still had the carton of milk in her right hand.  
Laughing silently and whistling to herself, she walked home.

Everything was ready for Phase 2 of the Batplan.


	8. Chapter 8

Commissioner Gordon was pleased with himself today.

They didn't catch the jackass that turned on the Batsignal, but that didn't matter to him right this moment.  
On his way from his office, he dropped the last of the week's paperwork on his deputy's desk, "See you on Monday, Paul." He threw over his shoulder.  
"Get some rest Jim." Paul threw back, not looking up from his newspaper.  
"Will do."  
Jim felt relieved. This was his first weekend off in a month and boy, did he need it.

Just as he was reaching the door, a young girl, around twenty or so, burst in and rushed straight into him.  
They both fell and landed on the floor next to each other.  
Other officers now surrounded them, offering their 'Are-you-alright's' and 'What happened's'.

Jim groaned and got up, seeing the girl being helped to her feet.  
She looked up at him, her eyes wide, "Oh god, I am so sorry! Are you okay sir?" She exclaimed.  
He nodded, noting her English accent, "I'm fine." He said, "You?"  
"No, don't worry about me." She waved her hand dismissively, "You're the commissioner after all."  
He chuckled and sent away the crowd, telling them he was fine.  
Jim turned back to her, "Never mind that. What brings you here in such a hurry?"  
She looked down at her shoes, "I was mugged."  
"I can see why you're in hurry." He looked towards the help desk and pointed at it, "Just go tell the officer over there and file a report. He'll help you."  
She followed his finger and nodded, "Oh, thank you sir." She said, walking towards the desk, "I'm sorry I knocked you over!"  
"I'll get over it." He went to the exit, "I hope they get your guy kid."  
"Me too!" She called as he left the building.

He sighed, and walked to his car.  
No matter how much you try and keep the city clean, crooks will always come in bringing up unwanted dirt.

* * *

Jim unlocked the door to his house and closed it behind him. He switched the light on and dumped his jacket, keys and briefcase on the hallway table.

He strolled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, reaching for a beer.  
Going to the living room and sipping his drink, he slowly sat on the sofa, stretching his legs out on a footrest. He sighed and rested his head against the cushions.

No work for two whole days.  
He didn't how he'd survive.

He got up again and went to where he left his jacket, fishing out the worn photograph of his children Jimmy and Barbara. Finding it, he took it out and gazed at their faces. God, how he missed them.  
He made to put it back in the pocket but felt another small, folded piece of paper. He removed and opened it, reading the contents.

He froze, rereading it to make sure it was real.

BRUCE WAYNE WAS THE BATMAN

* * *

Shoving the precinct doors open, Jim rushed over to the help desk.

The clerk looked up, surprised to see him, "Sir, what are you-"  
"Forget that." He interrupted, "The girl. The girl that came in here, something about a mugging?"  
The clerk scanned the Commissioner's face, "Yes sir, she left about twenty minutes ago."  
"Give me the file."

A few moments later, the Commissioner stood, scanning the report. He found her name, Miss Nelya Clyne.


	9. Chapter 9

Nelya stood at her kitchen counter, ferociously mixing a bowl of cake batter.

'Any time now...' she thought anxiously.

There was a long awaited knock at the door.

She took a sharp breath in. She was as good as dead now.  
She slowly walked to her front door, "Who is it?" she called in a song-like quality.  
"Commissioner James Gordon, Miss Clyne. I believe we met earlier. May I come in?" His tone was flat, monotone. She couldn't read anything in such a guarded voice.  
She held her breath as she opened the door with one hand, balancing the bowl against her chest with the other, "Good evening Commissioner. What brings you around here?"  
"I think you know very well Miss Clyne. May I come in?" He repeated.  
Nelya stepped aside indicating for him to enter. She looked down at her bare fee, one on top of the other, biting her lip.  
Commissioner Gordon stood in the middle of the hallway, hands on his hips, "We have something very important to discuss, young lady."

Once Nelya had put the bowl of cake batter in the fridge, and made a mug of hot chocolate for both her and the Commissioner, she perched on her armchair facing him where he sat on the sofa.  
She felt like she was in trouble with her father. The way he sat and spoke radiated a fatherly approach on her discipline.

She was very nervous.

"Miss Clyne," he began, "tell me everything."

* * *

So, she did. Everything.

From when she first moved here, her experiences of the 'war', her obsession with the Batman and finally her personal challenge and motivation to figure out his identity.  
Nelya also explained, step by step, of how she came to conclude that Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

When she finished, a whole hour and two more mugs of hot chocolate later, Commissioner Gordon sat back in his seat and rubbed his eyes. Sometime during the course of her tale he had taken off his glasses to do the exact same action, "Damn kids." He said, sitting up, "Where you guys get these ideas from I will never know."  
She was silent for a moment, "You said 'you' in the plural sense."  
The Commissioner internally cursed, "Yes, I did." He answered, despite it not being a question.  
Nelya looked away, then back up at him, "There was another person, separate from the group I just said, who knew, wasn't there? Someone young?"  
He sighed, "Yes, there was-"  
"Wait!" She raised her hands in a 'stop' gesture, "Before you go on, I want to tell you something."  
He looked at her puzzlingly, "Go on..." He prompted.

She told him about seeing 'Batman' on the roof next to the police department- the one who most probably turned on the Batsignal. He had said he knew the Batman's identity.  
"Do you think they're the same person?" She asked him after he didn't say anything.  
"They are."  
"Are you going to tell me?"  
"Do you want to figure it out by yourself?"  
She thought for instant, "Yes please."

* * *

The next day, they sat in the Commissioner's office and resumed their conversation from where they left it last night.

The Commissioner sat back in his chair, his hands behind his head, "What do you want know?"  
Nelya bit her lip, "From the way you spoke of him, I assume he either is or was a police officer."  
"And how do I speak of him Miss Clyne?"  
"Rather fondly. Like he were a nephew." She said, seeing him smile at her answer.  
"Carry on."  
"I've seen many young men at the department both yesterday and today, but none of them fit this guy's physical attributes. There was one but his voice was all wrong."  
"His voice?" He said, leaning forward, elbows resting on the table.  
"Yep, he had a very thick Gotham accent- 'Batman'," she gestured with her fingers, "had a more subtle one."  
"Right..."  
"Um..." She looked around the room, "I suppose he's no longer part of the force?"  
"How did you...?" He stared at her in bewilderment.  
"You may sound fond some of the time, but otherwise, you seem...disappointed. Not in him but because you feel he had had the potential to do great things?"  
He let out a breath of air, "You're very good." He said, "What did you say you were studying again?"  
"Modern History and English Literature."  
"Oh."  
"Am I allowed to see a copy of the list of officers and detectives who left over the past year?" She asked.  
"I don't see why not." Commissioner Gordon got up and went over to a filing cabinet, pulling open a draw and flicking through it. When he found what he was looking for, he pulled out a set of papers and handed it to her.  
She took it and grabbed a pencil from a pot on his desk and began to cross names out. First the policewomen, then the men who were too tall, short, fat, thin, old and who came from outside Gotham.

This left her with around twenty names. She filtered the search even more by crossing out the regular policemen-leaving only detectives. The number had gone down to twelve.

This then went down to three; taking when they left-after the war- into account.  
She narrowed her eyes, trying to find another possible connection or anomaly.  
Her eyebrows shot up, a grin on her face as she found it. She handed the list of profiles back to the Commissioner.

He didn't have to look at who she had circled, he was watching her work so intently, "How?" Was all he said.  
"I had to find connection between him and Batman rather than another physical aspect about him. They're parentage was the most prominent answer." She paused, "They are or were both orphans- they have that emotional connection the other two lacked. I guess that's a difference in itself."  
"Well, you're right. John Blake was the only other person that knew."


	10. Chapter 10

Knock knock.  
Knock knock knock.  
Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock-  
"WHAT?!" Blake shouted as he flung open his apartment door, extremely tired and now very annoyed.  
He was too slow to move as a fist bumped him hard in the middle of his forehead, "Crap!" He exclaimed, as he quickly brought a hand up to rub his brow, "What the hell was...that for...?"  
His voice trailed off as he recognised the person standing in front of him.

Her wavy brown hair was out, falling over her shoulders, a red slide pinning back her bangs. She wore a sapphire blue jacket, brass buttons along the front and a brass-buckled belt fastened around her small waist, her legs clad in black jeans and feet in red flats, polka-dotted in white. Her brown eyes were lightly lined in black, her tanned skin contrasting against the shade.

The girl he met on the roof.  
Correction. The girl _Batman_ met on the roof.  
Uh-oh.

She had a very surprised and apologetic expression on her face, "I am so sorry. I honestly didn't mean that."  
"Ah, don't bother about it, it's fine." He shoved his hands in his pyjama pockets, feeling a tiny bit underdressed.  
"I guess I don't know my own strength sometimes." She laughed weakly looking down at her shoes, clutching her hands behind her back.  
He didn't want to ask such an awkward question but, "Um, can I help you with something...?"  
She looked back up at him, her eyes flat and hard. Sighing she said, "I know why I'm here," She pointed to herself, "You know why I'm here." She pointed to him, "So let's just speed this whole process up, _Mr Blake_, and just take me to it."

He tried to play dumb, "Take you to what?" He said, crossing his arms over his chest.  
"Don't play dumb with me." She said, snuffing him out and mimicking his actions, "Get dressed, look smart-you have a lady in your presence- and meet me downstairs in five minutes." She emphasized her point by pushing five outstretched fingers in his face.

He snorted, "And if I don't?" He said, more in confirmation than attempting any resistance.  
"If you don't, I will personally drag your sorry butt down the stairs, shove you into your car and make you drive to 'it'."  
She began to walk away, but stopped and turned back to him, "Oh, and I'll make a personal phone call to my friend, the _Commissioner_, if you even try and refuse."

Blake was ready and opening his passenger seat for her with a minute to spare.


	11. Chapter 11

The ride to the cave had not been as awkward as they thought it would be- just silent.

They introduced themselves properly, Blake giving her his legal name 'Robin'. She liked it, saying it was unique and 'fitting for Batman's sidekick'. To this he protested, saying that he 'was no sidekick but the real deal'. They laughed and she told him her name. He said he liked her name as well, saying it sounded glamorous and unusual. She said that yes, she was what one would call 'unusual' but glamorous- not at all.  
He then asked her if she was going to tell him what she knew and how she knew it, but with no such luck. Nelya emphasized that until she was in the cave she was not going say a word.

This left them in silence, the questions they wanted to ask each other not going to be said until they reached their destination.

* * *

They pulled up just outside an opening leading on to a small waterfall hidden by tall trees and wild bushes on either side of it.

As she was about to get out of the car, Blake stopped her, "Wait." He said.  
Nelya glanced at him questioningly.  
"How...how can I trust you?" He managed, looking out of his window, appearing very tired all of a sudden.  
"Do you trust the Commissioner?" She asked, wanting to see his face.  
He finally turned to her. Despite his clenched jaw and exhausted body, his eyes were sharp and understanding, "I do, and he seems to trust you, so that should be good enough for me." He paused for a moment, "But until you tell me everything, I'll still be doubtful."  
She broke out into a grin and lightly shoved his arm with the backs of her knuckles, "You'll be a brilliant Batman yet."  
He smiled back at this and turned off the engine, making sure his mobile phone was switched off too.  
Opening her door slightly she said, "Blake?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Don't worry. You can trust me."

* * *

Coming up to the bottom of the waterfall, Blake dropped his bag on the ground and knelt to dig out the climbing equipment, "I only have one set, so I'll have to push you in first." He stood, carbon fibre rope in hand, "Then you throw the line to me, 'kay?"

"Or, you can carry us both across."  
He looked across at her, eyebrows raised. Nelya's hands were on her hips, studying the entrance to the cave and the deep dip between where she was standing and where the water fell below, paying no attention to him whatsoever, "I swear, this is the coolest thing I have ever done."  
Feeling his stare, she spun to look at him, "What? It's true."  
"Not about that. You sure you're fine with me taking you through?"  
"Why wouldn't I be?" She took a step closer to him, "It's not like I'm socially inept with the other sex." She blushed, "In the sense that I don't not have male friends."  
He raised a smug eyebrow.  
"Didn't I suggest it to you in the first place?"  
He raised his hands in mock defense, the corner of his mouth tweaking up a little, "Hey, your words, not mine."  
She locked her teeth and crossed her arms as he went to set up the line.

When he got back, he handed her a harness, which she stepped into and buckled fairly quickly.  
Once they had all their gear on and Blake had made sure all things were in order, he gestured for her to get on his back. She did so, jumping on, and he noted how light she was as he wrapped an arm around her calf, the other holding the rope, "Brace yourself." He muttered.  
She nodded and tightened her arms around his neck, making sure not to suffocate him in the process.

"One."  
He began to jog towards the edge of the small cliff.  
"Two."  
She said after he quickened the pace.  
"Three!"  
He shouted as he reached the precipice, vaulting them off the edge.  
The rope pulled tight and they were swinging high above the ground before crashing into the cold water.

She squeaked as the water momentarily blinded her, causing her to miss a single glimpse of the cave.  
The line caught on the top edge of the cave and they swung upward more forcefully, then landing in a large puddle. Prior to this however, Nelya let go of Blake; twisting to the left, untangling her legs and touching down gracefully onto the rock floor.  
Blake landed on his feet as well, just not as well as she did. He stumbled upon impact, but regained his balance shortly after.

He looked round at her and smiled when he saw the expression on her face.  
Her eyes were wide with wonder, her mouth hanging open as she looked around the cave. She appeared so struck by where she was that she almost didn't register the hoard of bats flying down towards them. She loudly gasped in surprise at first, covering her eyes but straightened after a moment, watching them as they circles upwards, back into their coves of rest.  
She laughed out loud and ran over to Blake, throwing her arms round his neck, hugging him tight, "Thank you, thank you, thank you so _much_!"  
Not knowing what to do, he brought a hand up and gingerly patted her back  
She stiffened then and broke away from him, "Sorry. I-uh didn't mean..."  
He smirked, "Be careful," he said, "If you carry on like that, I might start to get ideas." He waggled his eyebrows at her.  
Nelya pushed him in the chest, her cheeks red, "You should consider yourself accomplished; nobody has ever made me blush twice-let alone once- in day before."  
He chuckled and walked backwards a few steps, facing her, arms held out wide, gesturing around him, "Miss Clyne, welcome to the Batcave."


	12. Chapter 12

After what seemed like an age of watching Nelya run back and forth across every nook and cranny of the cave he had managed to settle her down. They now sat at the desk, Blake leaning on the table and Nelya on the chair.

She had told him of how she came across his identity, saying it was 'easy but not too easy'. He had snorted at this and replied that he'd 'have to work on that.'

Once she had finished with this, she started on the process of uncovering Bruce Wayne's mask, "I'll warn you now," she let out with a sigh, "It's a long story."  
"Try me."  
She sucked in a deep breath and began, "Think of all the people in Gotham."  
"Got it."  
"We need to condense that number into one person. How do we do that?"  
He didn't need to think for a single moment, "Elimination."  
"Exactly." She said, "Now, we know Batman's a, well, man."  
"Narrows down to about half of Gotham."  
"Let's take age into account, he couldn't have been _that_ old."  
"Around thirty?"  
She nodded, "How did he get this kind of equipment?" She gestured around her.  
"He was a multi-billionaire."  
"Brings the search down to less than a tenth of the population."  
"Where he got all this from is the next question."  
"So, he had to have connections. Maybe the head of a large industry- he put those he trusted at the top, providing optimum discrepancy."  
"Yeah, that takes it down a lot." He grew silent, opening his mouth then closing it again.  
"What?" She asked gently.  
"Nah, it's nothing." He brushed it off.  
She pouted, insisting, "No, tell me."  
He let a breath out, "He wore two masks. One in the day, one at night."  
"Oh my Hercules," her eyes widened at the realisation, "I never thought of that."

She paused in thought, "Yes of course, the _best_ protection; being the opposite of what, or who for that matter, you are. A billionaire playboy, then a mysterious protector of the night."  
Blake looked down at his shoes, waiting for the question.  
"Is that how you figured it out?" She asked quietly.  
He nodded, a sad smile on his face and looked at her, "You probably know this already, but I was an orphan at nine years old. Got sent to the city orphanage, you know, usual stuff. They expect you to...get over...what happened- stop being so angry all the time. You've gotta put on a face and act like everything's behind you. It's just not though."  
Nelya looked away from him then, "You found a kindred spirit." She muttered.  
"I guess you can say it like that. The famous Bruce Wayne came to the orphanage and it was like seeing myself, standing there with this dazzling smile," he laughed dryly, "But his eyes, can't mistake that angry kid still inside... Just like me."


	13. Chapter 13

"I guess I should get you back home." Blake said standing up.

"_Excuse_ me?" Nelya said, moving to stand in his way.  
"What?" He placed his hands on his hips, "You found out what you wanted to, I'm taking you home." He tried to maneuver around her but she blocked him continuously.  
"Let me through!" He exclaimed.  
"Fine." She dropped to the floor, crossing her legs and arms, a defiant frown on her face.  
"Seriously?"  
She nodded a definite once.  
He let out a sigh of frustration, "Alright, alright. What do you want?"  
She got up and dusted off her trousers, then took off her coat, dumping it on the desk and rolled the sleeves of t-shirt up. She curled her hands into fists and held them up, pushing her right foot in front of her left, ready in a fighting stance, "Try and hit me." Was all she said.  
Blake was speechless, trying to compute the situation, "You want me to _hit_ you?"  
"Is that a problem?"  
He squinted his eyes at her, "Yes, it is. I can't hit a girl."  
"Sexist coward."  
He froze, "What did you call me?"  
"Oh, I'm sorry. I meant_ stupid_ sexist coward." She sarcastically smirked and drew back to stand in a normal position.  
He laughed dryly, "Okay, okay." He held up his hands in a parody of defeat, "Let's make a deal."  
"I'm listening."  
"If I land one hit on you, you walk away and don't look back. If I can't, then you can stay."  
"Fine." She held out her hand and he took it, sealing the deal. Looking into her confident yet amused eyes now, though, he felt...nervous. Scared even.

They each stepped back, Blake in a typical boxing-stance and Nelya simply standing, arms folded behind her, a smile on her lips and regarding him as if he were some form of amusement, "I'm waiting." She called in a sing-song voice.

Blake couldn't decide whether if she was the crazy one- or he was.  
Thinking he would catch her off guard, he surged forward.

No chance.

She swiftly moved out of the way, causing him to lurch forward and force himself to a stop. He looked round at where he thought she stood, confused when she wasn't there.  
"Now really. I was _completely_ off my guard there." He spun to see her directly behind him, inspecting her nails.  
"How did you-"  
"Save your breath." She cut off, "You're certainly going to need it."  
Now very determined, he went for her- all thoughts of deals gone. Again, she slipped away, round and behind him, pushing his back slightly and giggling. He staggered and swung his arm round hoping to at least brush her.

She eluded this, bending her torso back, throwing her arms up so that she balanced crab-like on the floor on her hands. Nelya kicked her left foot up, the right following, bringing them up and over her body and head and coming to a standing pose- all in a matter of seconds.

She smiled and bowed, noting his now lack of energy and worn-out, out of breath person.  
"You...win." He rasped.  
"Whoo!" She jumped up and clapped her hands in anticipation and triumph, "Training starts tomorrow!"  
His drained mind considered for an instant, "_What_ training?"  
"Oh please, you didn't think you could fight the criminal underworld of Gotham with those pathetic punches did you?"

He raised a finger, then dropped it.  
She was right. He did need help. And her knowledge and skill was obviously higher than the standards he was thinking of.

He shook his head, "Training starts tomorrow."


	14. Chapter 14

Blake drove Nelya back to her apartment block. She bid him a 'see you later' and rushed to the door. When she had gotten to the second floor she peeped out of the window, noticing he was still there. She saw him shake his head and pass his hands over his face before turning on the ignition and driving away.

She giggled and sprinted towards her apartment door, unlocking it and moving inside. Dumping her bag on the floor and kicking off her shoes she sauntered into her bedroom and crashed on her bed, laying there for a few minutes. She was excited but right now, what she needed was to be clean and _sleep_.

Then, stretching and forcing herself up, she went to gladly go and have a shower.

* * *

He stopped by the Commissioner's house, rapping on the door gently. He checked his watch, 8:06. Blake sighed, three hours with Fangirl. He thought back to when they were fighting- how for the first time he felt vulnerable.

He laughed at himself, he had rarely ever been afraid, but he saw something in her tonight. He believed that when he put on the suit he felt powerful- he realised she had that same power in her.

He remembered meeting her on the roof, wondering how she caught up to him so fast.

'Yup,' he thought, 'she's a ninja.'

The Commissioner's door opened and he stood there, looking at him as if he expected their meeting, "You better come in." He sighed.

Blake said nothing and entered the house.

* * *

After breaking out a couple of beers, Blake and Jim sat on the sofa, looking away from each other. Finally, Blake began the conversation, "She's something, isn't she?"

Jim nodded slowly, "Oh yes."

Blake laughed wryly and took a swig of his beer, "I still can't believe she managed to figure out _his _identity. She never even _met_ him."

It was Jim's turn to laugh, "But," he leaned forward, "Who I'm more interested about is _you_."

"Come on Gordon, you knew it was me, "his eyes flicked down to his hands, "He gave me directions to the hideout. I guessed that meant one thing."

"Well, you certainly did what he wanted." He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

Blake opened his mouth, hesitating before saying, "You're not gonna turn me in are you?"

Jim observed the young boy, "Who would I turn you in to?" He chuckled, "I'm the Commissioner aren't I?"

The corner of Blake's mouth kicked up, "Thanks Gordon," he got up, "I owe you one." He made a move to leave.

"Just one question." Jim called.

"Yeah?"

"If-or when- you need to fight, you set?" He asked.

"Yeah." He smiled to himself, "I've got a wicked instructor."


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated in _so_ long. I've been revising for three months straight and have almost finished my exams, so I should upload another chapter soon!**

**I apologise again!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Knock knock.

Knock knock knock knock.

Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock-

"You won't get anywhere with just knocking." Called a voice from behind the door.

Blake's eyes widened then narrowed into slits, "You did the same to me yesterday!"

The door opened to let him in, "Rule One," she said, picking up a duffle bag, "Never imitate your opponent's moves." She tapped him on the cheek a couple of times with the back of her hand,"Let's go."

She walked into the elevator and he followed suit, shoving his hands into his pockets, "It makes you too predictable?"

"It makes _you_ too predictable." She hit the ground floor button and the doors closed slowly.

"You know," He turned to her slightly; "You're really something."

She looked up at him in a curious way, "Is that a good or bad thing?"

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out, "Both I guess."

They left the building and went to his car, parked just outside the entrance, "Both?" she questioned, walking around to the passenger seat.

"Yeah," He said, unlocking the doors and getting inside, "I mean; you have a method about you that's good for you- not necessarily for me."

"Hey, no pain no gain."

Driving away, they were silent, until Blake spoke up, "So, what do you have planned today?"

She looked at him, "Did you not understand the first rule?"

"You said I should never imitate an opponent's moves."

"Yeah, but why?"

He blinked,"Oh."

"Predictability is something you do not want to get in the habit of." She paused, "But."

"But..."

"If you run out of strategies and the only way you can defeat your opponent is to, in essence, copy them- I suppose it would add an element of surprise. Also giving you enough time to think up a plan."

"I'll keep that in mind."

A few moments of quiet later Nelya began to giggle.

"What?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"'_But_'"

* * *

Eventually, they swung into the cave, Nelya once again detaching herself from him and

flipping in the air, landing neatly on her feet.

"You have _got_ to teach me how to do that."

"All in good time young Padawan." She said walking over the rising platform and placing her jacket and bag on the desk. He did the same, taking off his jumper- wearing only a black vest underneath.

She sat on the floor and took off her flat shoes and replaced them with sturdy yet somehow light brown boots.

Sauntering over to the other side of the platform, she stood opposite Blake, "Right." she said, clapping her hands together, "Jump."

"You want me to jump?"

"There isn't any need for repetition." She replied simply, "You heard what I said."

Sighing, he obeyed to her demand, jumping a couple of feet into the air, landing and putting his hands on his hips, "Alright?"

"No. Do it again," she sat on the floor and crossed her legs, "Higher."

"That _was _high!"

She indicated with her eyes at his feet, "If you call that high, then you have a poor definition of length."

He groaned in frustration and jumped, putting as much power into it as possible, reaching a foot higher than before.

"Note to self: work on jump." She said getting up and walking towards him, "Let's see what your stance is like." She spread her feet so that they went around a foot and a half apart and held her arms stretched out in front of her. She bobbed her head at him, indicating for him to do the same- to which he reluctantly followed.

"The most important part of fighting, I guess, is your stance," she began, bending her left arm outwards and extending it out and moving her right leg in the opposite direction.

He imitated her, finding it slightly challenging to stretch in such a way while keeping his balance.

He mimicked her bringing her left arm round and in front of her, stretching her right arm out in the opposite direction, "Without a secure and steady stance," she said,"You might as well back out of the fight before it even starts."

"So... why are we doing all this twisty, spinny stuff?" he said, bringing his left leg forward in a slow lunge and swivelling his hips to shift his right leg round, spinning to come face to face with Nelya.

"Why?" she repeated, hands on hips, looking down at him.

Blake straightened and crossed his arms, "Yeah, you said a steady, secure stance is important. So why are we moving about?"

She sighed,"At any one time during the 'spinny stuff' did you feel shaky or uneven?"

"The beginning, yeah- but after I got the hang of it I guess it wasn't so bad." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Exactly."She said, "You got your balance. If you carry on with it, you'll stay steady while being able to manoeuvre your body with ease."

"So you're gonna make me do that every day?"

"No, _you're_ gonna make you do that every day."She replied, hands on hips, her face one of nonchalance.

"I am?"

"You want to not get beat up?"

He paused, sighing to the ceiling, "I guess I have no choice, then."

* * *

They carried on with the routines for another hour, quickening the pace of moving. Blake began lunging with more power, springing forward with an increased amount of force, swiveling his hips to mirror that of his teacher. He worked hard, sweat dripping from his forehead and muscles both loose and tense, and breath ragged after they finished.

"Now," Nelya said, taking a swig of her water, "Warm up done, let's get to business."

"Excuse me?" He asked, getting up from his seat on the ground, "That was just a _warm up_?"

She raised an eyebrow, "What else could it have been?"

"The _actual_ training?"

"Nope."

He stared at her for a minute, trying to understand her, but eventually giving up, "Fine. What's next?"

"We should work on your hits." She said, walking over to him and slapping his arm, "But I think you have to build up some muscle first."

"And how are we going to do that?"

"If only we had some equipment…" Nelya drifted off, going to the large computer and typing rapidly on the keyboard. There was a whir and a platform began to rise just next to where Blake was standing, a closet of some sort, metal caged and fairly large.

Jumping up, she went to the closet and gingerly opened, smirking when she looked inside, "Blake," she said, stepping back and holding up a skipping rope, "We just hit the jackpot."

For another two hours after that he lifted weights and skipped rope with only a strict two minute break after ten minutes of intense work. By the time the hours ticked by, Blake was an exhausted puddle of sweat- but Nelya was in no way finished with him yet, "Before we wrap it up for today, I want you do to one last thing."

"That does not sound good."

What did she make him do?

Run the entire cave ten times over, through the water and over the rocks _with_ her on his back.


	16. Chapter 16

After a week of carrying on with the exact same routine for six hours every day, Nelya figured it was time to put the work into practice.

Laughing haughtily, she held up some white bandages, "Sparring."

"Am I going to have to try and fight you?" He gulped.

"Try. Hopefully succeed. Fail? Definitely."

"Great."

She walked over to him, "Give me your hand." He did and she began wrapping his knuckles on both hands with the bandage, doing hers as well.

When she finished, she stepped two paces away and formed her stance, telling Blake to do the same, "On the count of three," she paused, "…THREE!"

They vaulted towards each other, their speed matched. Coming up shoulder to shoulder, she spun and kicked her right leg out, coming into contact with the backs of his knees. He stumbled but managed to twist and throw out a punch. "Sloppy!" She dodged, shouting and balling her fists, she uppercut his jaw, hitting it and jumping back.

Blake paused and held his jaw, "Ow."

"No breaks!" She lunged at him. By now, he was just quick enough to dodge, sliding to the left-within an inch of his face flattening itself against her knuckles. He turned and spun his hip, lifting his right leg and kicking it down. Nelya easily slipped away from this and Blake began to realise what was about to happen.

Instead of his foot colliding with her, his heel slammed down hard on the floor. Sheer pain shot up his leg and he stood momentarily, jaw clenched. Noticing his sudden stillness, Nelya walked up to him and looked down at his rigid leg, "You have two options," she said, "One: we carry on with your bruised foot." She glanced at his face, "Or two: we go and hone your 'people' skills."

He turned to face her, "Is there an option three?"

She shook her head.

"People skills it is then."

* * *

After Nelya bandaged and secured his foot, she drove them to a cafe on the outskirts of the city. Blake had insisted on driving but was immediately quietened by the aching spasm of his leg- choosing instead to grumble to himself over the course of the journey. What he was complaining about, Nelya did not have a clue.

Upon arriving, they sat outside at a table for two and ordered a coffee and hot chocolate. Once they made themselves comfortable, she leaned forward, "See that man over there?" She indicated behind him with a nod of her head, "Tell me about him."

He turned slightly and glanced at the middle aged man, dressed in a gaudy suit and tapping away on his fancy phone. Looking back at her, he raised an eyebrow, "I don't even know him."

"That's a pretty sad excuse."

"For what?"

"Telling something about a person."

"Fine." He said, looking at the man again, "He's rich, thinks he has a sense of fashion, seems arrogant...that's about it."

"Good," she said, "But there's more."

"More?" He asked, "How can there be?"

"Well, yes, he's rich and does seem arrogant, however, he's also having an affair."

Blake squinted his eyes at her, "How do you know?"

"Despite his countenance, he's nervous about something- the way he's constantly looking over his shoulder and blinking at his watch. It doesn't help that his foot tapping is loud enough to wake the dead."

"That doesn't mean he's having an affair." He said.

"You're right, it's not enough." She smirked, "His god-forsaken outfit and gelled hair means he's out to impress someone- but doesn't quite know how. There is a distinct difference in the colouring of his ring finger- where a certain wedding ring should be. The state of his overall physical appearance- taking his beer belly into account- shows us that this is probably his first time at having an affair. And, really, why on earth would you take your wife out to a place as quiet and idle as this?" She paused, "Plus, I highly doubt _that's_ his wife."

He turned once again to see a tall, slender woman walk up to the man, kissing him on the cheek and taking the seat opposite. Blake breathed out and looked back at her, "I have to say, I'm impressed."

She sat back, "Being impressed is one thing, but letting the same thing happen to you is another."

"So you want me to be able to read people?"

"That," She agreed, "_And_ I want people to be unable to read _you_."

* * *

"Why do you think he chose a bat?"

"Hm?" Blake looked up from inspecting the computer.

"The Batsuit," Nelya clarified, "Why did he choose a bat?"

He thought for a moment, "I guess the whole man in a black suit with an intimidating cape and mask on would seem scary. I mean, criminals _are_ known to be superstitious and chicken about stuff like that."

"Huh," She said, "Never thought about that."


	17. Chapter 17

Major injuries healed, but new ones gaining everyday, Blake continued to spar with Nelya after their normal routine. He was getting into the habit of quickly timing his movements and carrying them out with confidence. He began to feel less and less tired as the days rolled on, and though he was still no match for her, something was telling him that she held back whenever they trained.

To be honest, he hardly knew anything about her.

He wanted to ask her but right now he had to focus on more important things. Namely, on what he was about do right now.

They were standing on top of the warehouse that Blake had visited once before- the abandoned one around the edge of Midtown Gotham. Nelya faced him, "Tonight, I want you to move from here," she stomped her foot in emphasis, "to there." She pointed to the other side of the open space, to the deserted building where he swung to almost a month ago.

Has it really been _that_ long? A _month_?

"However," she said, snapping him out of his reverie, "You have to do it so that I cannot, in _any_ way, see you."

"Right," he said, jumping on the spot, "Get over there, don't be seen."

She turned and rummaged through the bag she brought with her. Straightening, she handed him a stopwatch, "Alright, every time you fail- and trust me, you will- stop the time on that watch, come back and start again."

"Way to pep talk." He said, taking the watch.

"Hey, we all learn from our mistakes right?" She said, looking away then back up at him so quickly that if he blinked he would have missed it, "When I see or hear you, I'll let you know."

Nodding, he climbed down the side of the warehouse, starting the timer and waiting momentarily before sneaking away speedily and going to hide in the shadow of a large dustbin. He could make out her silhouetted form, standing with hands on hips and looking straight ahead, away from him. Smirking, he vaulted towards the next dustbin, barely reaching it when a blow horn sounded, "I saw you!"

"How?" He answered, stopping the watch, standing and looking up at her.

"You kicked up dirt when you moved."

He glanced at where he had been, the dust was displaced slightly, looking like an arrow pointing straight at him.

"What's the time say?" She asked.

"Thirty-four seconds." He sighed, dragging himself towards the start.

"Again."

"I know."

The second time he managed to reach the second dustbin, but practically jumped out of his skin when a gunshot let rip through the night, "Nelya?" He called.

"Heard you!" He could hear her laugh, "Back to the beginning!"

"What the hell was that for?" He shouted.

"It's this app I have on my phone, it makes gun noises!"

"Really?"

"You need to learn to move in silence, and therefore stealth, without distractions affecting you." She moved into his line of sight and produced the blow horn again, sounding it until he disappeared behind wall of the warehouse.

After twenty-six more attempts-all of which he was seen, heard, or both, only once getting as far as the stairway to the building but in doing so, scared a cat, making it shriek to high heaven- and three hours later, Blake was just about ready to give up.

Then, inspiration hit him.

He understood that he had taken the same route to get to the building over and over again- and what was Rule One? To not imitate an opponent's tactics. It also was to not get in the habit of predictability- what he needed to do was surprise her.

Starting the timer, he went around the back of the warehouse, keeping close to the wall and treading lightly but keeping a fast pace. Getting to the other end, he went around the corner and crept to the edge of the wall- this time, though, he did not bolt, going left and away from the warehouse, instead of rushing towards the building, keeping in the shadow of the nearby tree he forgot was there. Tip-toeing the long way round and staying hidden, he was within a hundred yards of the building.

Peeking up, he saw the hazy outline of Nelya, still looking straight ahead. He did not let coming this far get to his head, remaining focused on the way to go, even if it was a short distance away.  
He saw a pile of tyres, stacked haphazardly between him and the building. T/aking one last glance at the warehouse roof, he whisked himself forward, careful not to drag his feet, and came up behind the tyres. Swallowing, he braced himself for the horn to blow, but he heard nothing- taking this as a good sign, he repeated his earlier step and managed to get to the wall of the building, opposite to the one that he had constantly aimed for.

Laughing silently in surprise, he decided not to go up the stairwell and instead climb to the top from the inside after noticing a door to his left, hanging partly open. He slipped inside and found himself in a very dark hallway. Carrying on forward, he found a flight of stairs leading up, taking the steps two at a time, all they way to the roof.  
Opening the door in front of him, he stood with his hands on his hips, a goofy grin spread across his face. Stopping the watch he looked down and saw it had only taken him a minute and twelve seconds.

The horn blew and he looked up, seeing Nelya clapping her hands in recognition, "Well done!" She shouted across to him, "You did it!"  
He punched his fist in the air and whooped.

* * *

As a prize, she cooked them both dinner at her place- egg-fried rice, chicken satay and a broad-bean curry. This was actually a treat for Blake. Over the course of his training, he was only allowed a strict diet- a healthy balance of all foods, home-cooked and not a ready-meal or fast-food bag in sight.

She had pushed him and, seeing him now, it had paid off. He had bulked up quite a bit from the past month, his arms were thicker and the muscles on his chest and back more pronounced. Even _he_ could see the difference- with both his body, the way he moved, his stamina had increased dramatically and his reflexes were faster, _much_ faster.

They sat down on the floor, in front of the television, eating their food with chopsticks. A half hour later, Blake took a sip of his beer and looked at her, "Where're you from?" He asked.

"I thought that would be pretty obvious." She said, given her English accent.

"No," he put down his plate, wiping his mouth with a napkin, "What did you do before you came here? How did you learn how to fight like that?" He paused, watching her nod her head in understanding, "I mean, I know practically _nothing_ about you."

She laughed and ate her last piece of chicken, putting her plate down and leaning back with her glass of cola in one hand, "I guess I should start with my mother."

"Your _mother_?"

She nodded, "My mum was born in Yemen but moved to Scotland when she was around my age. Her _parents_ were part of... a group."

"What kind of group?"

"They were called the League of Assassins- or League of Shadows. They run across the globe, in every country you can possibly think of. I suppose you can guess what they did."

Blake was quiet.

She sighed and she sipped her drink, "Anyway, they trained my mother as an assassin and she proved to be a protégé- one of their deadliest students."

He swallowed, "She didn't... you know."

"She had to, just like her parents did before her. She told me they were homeless, suicidal or up for death row. Those people were just for 'training'- the actual jobs or uses came when one became a fully fledged assassin."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Nelya looked away, "The day that marked the end of her training was when it became too much for her. They have these methods to prove devotion to the cause, it's relative to the specific student," she chuckled dryly, "They tried to make her kill her best friend."

"Did she?"

Nelya shook her head, "They escaped and ran. My mum did all she could to protect her friend, but she died. And when my grandparents managed to smuggle her out of the country, they were punished- severely. Anyway, my mother traveled on foot across Europe before meeting my Scottish dad- an ancient civilisations professor in training. They got married, moved to Scotland then down to London where they had me."

She glanced at him, "My mum knew there were assassins everywhere; I was home-schooled, so she was able to train me like one- minus the killing part." She smiled, "She trained me so hard my knuckles bled everyday, I was constantly covered in bruises and was always breaking bones. However, I have to say through the blood, sweat and tears, it was worth it."

"And she just let you come here?" He asked skeptically.

"Yup. My dad has...a way with her, and convinced her that letting me go was a good decision."

"Was it?"

"Definitely."


	18. Chapter 18

Over the course of the next few days, Nelya noticed a difference in Blake. It was unlike him to be _this_ quiet. She feared that what she had told him about her mother had affected their friendship in some way or another.

To be honest, she was worred about him.

There was an incident in Gotham around ten years ago involving Batman and the head of the League of Assassins, Ra's al Ghul. Blake would have remebered that- the whole incident with the train line and the burning of Wayne Manor- even if he didn't realise then what the story was behind it.

Still, he was fast getting better and better in his training, not quite at 'assassin level' just yet but close. Soon he'd be ready to start working out in the field, 'kicking asses and taking names' as he put it.

* * *

She had changed, in his eyes anyway. It was petty, he knew, but she seemed a whole lot more dangerous now. When she thought he wasn't looking her face would become a mask, completely unreadable. She looked sad sometimes too, and her eyes seemed old for her age, like she'd seen too much.

He still couldn't believe she was a trained assassin though, it was obvious now- the way she moved, thought, fought. Blake wondered if she had killed. He mentally slapped himself for even considering the possiblity, she wouldn't. He _knew_ she wouldn't.

But she could. That much he definitely knew.

Finally growing the balls to ask her, he mentioned it one afternoon after warm-ups. She had looked at him as if expecting the question, a small smile on her lips, "No, I haven't. Never will."

He relaxed, ashamed that a part of his mind believed that she did.

"But," she continued, "If it was the last possible course of action, I will not hesitate. My mother trained me as assassin and I shall act accordingly should the lives of those I care about are in danger." Blake swallowed, attempting to wetten his dry throat and tongue, and nodded tightly.

Her hard eyes told him she was serious, and, that she was specifically talking about him.

* * *

Standing, they faced each other, ready to spar. They stood in a copse of trees, near the cave; it was small but big enough to fight- the cave being too restrictive now that they needed to branch out. It was past evening, the day quickly fading, dark falling and the tress obscuring what little light was left.

Before they began, Blake held up a finger, "Wait," he said, "I don't want you to hold back on this one."

"Hold back?" she asked, tilting her head to the right.

"Don't think I don't know that you hold back when we fight. I can tell. I _was_ a detective after all."

She narrowed her eyes speculatively at him, then breaking out into a grin, "Your funeral."

"You're good, but not _that_ good." He scoffed.

Nelya raised an eyebrow at him, "We'll see."

They readied themselves, but this time, neither rushed forward. They calculated their movements, cautious and trying to predict each other's motives. She grinned, "You going to start or what?"

"Ladies first." The corner of his mouth twitched up.

"I decline sir, you first."

"I insist."

"Fine." She lurched forward, her small feet propelling her fast towards him. Feinting left, she jumped up and twisted her hips, air-bound and went to round-kick him in the ribs with her right foot. He stumbled back and turned, her hit just grazing his side, swallowing, he looked back in her direction and saw nothing- she had disappeared.

"Don't look so helpless. It gives you away." A voice called from above.

"How d'you do that?" He asked, looking up and around, peering into the shadows, in every nook and cranny.

"You didn't think I'd tell you all my secrets did you?" From the sound of her voice he could tell she was chuckling.

"_More_ secrets?" Blake was bewildered, what else could she be hiding?

He must have left himself open, because a couple of seconds later she descended on him, feet first, straight into the backs of his knees. Buckling, he fell but swung his legs out and spun, hands on the ground, intending to pull her feet out from under her.

Obviously she didn't agree.

Instead of moving out of the way, she stood her ground and wrapped an ankle around his own. She twisted their legs until the heel of her foot came to rest on his knee, "If I press down a fraction of an inch, this leg becomes immovable," She paused, looking directly into his eyes, "Another fraction, you start to feel a seering pain up your leg."

He swallowed, a sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"An inch more, your knee-pad shatters and your leg splits in half," She smiled smally at him, "You still have a lot to learn, clearly." She said, untangling their legs and helping him up, "But I don't think you'll be battling assassins any time soon."

"Is this going somwhere?" Blake asked, brushing dry leaves off if his back.

"Even though it's just on patrol, I think you're ready enough to go out into the field."


	19. Chapter 19

"I assume you've done this before."

"How'd you guess?"

_The_ most understated question of the year.

The night was dark- especially for summer- and the lights illuminating the entrance of the bank were yellow in colour; casting an intimidating shadow across the marble.

Perfect.

They stood on top of a tall building opposite the Gotham City Bank. Blake was in appropriate attire, the Batsuit donned once again- except this time it was being put to good use. He had gotten used to the various ins and outs, the multiple pockets of gadgets and gizmos in the suit. He discovered quite by accident the retractable blades on the gauntlets, almost making him lose an eye in the process. They both found out about the cape being able to transform into a glider, something he had to say he was getting the hang of.

Nelya, on the other hand, was dressed in a completely black outfit, her hair tied back in a ponytail and weraring green contacts. She refused to wear the smaller version of the same kevlar suit Blake had, saying it restricted her despite the more flexible kevlar plates. Instead, she wore a long black jacket, reaching her calves, and black leather trousers, coupled with lightweight boots and an ornate tribal mask. Dark green polished wood with bold white stripes around the edges, the mask itself was a chilling face; slim tusks protruding from the edges of the mouth, the eye slits small and lined in black.

He didn't want to know where she even _found_ a thing like that.

The bank they were watching was the major target of a series of hits around Gotham, the group responsible calling themselves the _Drakaina_. Who they were, nobody knew. But they were about to find out.

A van came roaring down the street, a simple white one, and squeeked to a stop just in front of the bank entrance. A dozen goons carrying machine guns filed out, their faces covered with typical comedy and tragedy masks. One knelt to tinker with the door lock, lock, managing to open it. No alarm could be heard, the _Drakaina_ must have disabled it beforehand. The majority of them went inside the bank, closing the doors behind them and leaving three posted outside to stand guard.

Nelya nodded slightly, barely, and Blake climbed down the side of the building. She leapt up into the air and landed quietly in front of the goons, "Great evening, isn't it?" She said, indicating the sky.

Blake hid in the shadows, waiting for her signal. He heard a couple of shots, a thump to the ground, a scream, a laugh, "Didn't your mother raise you to never hit a girl?" He heard her say.

Peaking past the building he hid behind, he watched as Nelya deftly took out another; he approached her with a knife in hand, hurtling towards her. She jumped up and over him, grabbing the bottom of his mask and pulling it with her, making him fall back and slam his head to the ground.

Standing with her hands on her hips, Nelya admired her handiwork. She raised a hand to tell him to follow and Blake went towards the double doors, not being able to help to sneek a glance at the men on the ground. They were alive.

Nelya waited at the entrance as Blake climbed the stairwell to the roof, opening the skylight there. Nelya flung open the doors of the bank and sauntered in, "I think there was a problem outside?" She called.

After a moment of disbelief, the goons charged, circling and trapping her, "Nine against one, girly," What seemed like the leader- El Stupid Blake called him- said, "I feel sorry for you."

"I think you should be feeling sorry for yourselves." Blake said, dropping from the window, cape stretched out, allowing him to glide safely down to stand beside Nelya, back to back. "Wicked entrance, huh?" He threw over his shoulder at her.

"Cheesy." She smirked.

"You're still outnumbered," El Stupid said, raising his gun. Blake could see the doubt in his eyes, 'The Batman's back?'

"True," Blake agreed, "That doesn't mean we can't kick your asses though."

El Stupid visibly snapped and out of the corner of his eye, Blake saw Nelya grin.

Everything moved in slow motion as the first shot was fired, Blake's honed reflexes making him duck down. Nelya took two long strides toward her side of idiots and jumped, landing with her leg wrapped around one's neck, then using her body weight to throw him down, instantly unconscious.

Blake kicked out at El Stupid's head, the impact sending him skidding across the marble floor. He hit the wall hard but tried standing, clearly dizzy. Blake stood over him and punched him in the jaw, knocking him cold.

Another came up behind him, intending to catch him by surprise, but to no success. Blake whirled on him, his fist connecting with his stomach. The goon wretched and Blake curled the back of his foot around his calf, pulling his legs from underneath him, dropping him to the floor.

Two were coming at him, leaving Nelya to deal with two herself; having taken care of two already. He shot a grappling hook into the ceiling, swinging to where she was, bullets streaming behind him. Landing, he directed his feet towards a goon's shoulders, falling and dealing with him in one go.

Back to back again, Nelya waited for one to come at her, gun pointed her way. She kicked out and twisted the gun around her leg, throwing it out and rendering him weaponless. As a last resort, the goon punched at her; but anticipating the move, she deflected, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down, straight into her knee.

Meanwhile, having grabbed a goon by the mask, Blake stretched the elastic that held it on, and let go; the mask smacking him in face. He took the man's ear and headbutted him, smirking as he watched him slide to the floor.

Nelya kneed the next one in the balls so hard he made a not-so-human sound. He dropped to his knees and she gave the final blow at the curve of his neck with the side of her hand.

Then, she turned to face the man Blake was handling who elbowed the man in the stomach and again on the side of his jaw when he tried to throw a half-hearted punch.

When the guy was out, Blake walked ovwr to the cashier desk and pressed the button that alerted the police. They tied the men up, leaving their masks on the floor in front of them, Blake grimacing at the state of some of their faces, _not_ counting after they dealt with them. Some had deep gashes along their foreheads and cheeks where the others looked as if their skin had been punctured with spikes.

Hearing sirens in the distance, they ran off into the night. Nonetheless, not before Blake had left a little memento to mark their presence.

A sharp, elegant Batarang.


	20. Chapter 20

Little did the Boy and Girl Wonders know, a man; dressed in a deep red ceremonial robe, accented with gold thread; was watching them.

His image was not real, though. A hologram.

He chuckled to himself, _'Perfect.'_ He thought.

* * *

_Somewhere on the outskirt of a small French town:_

"My liege, we have located the girl."

"Good," came a deep, grating voice from the gilded throne, "Bring her to me."

"At once my liege." Footsteps echoed away.

"Nowhere to hide now, my little champion." A harsh cackle swept through the cave as the Dragon sipped his blood red wine.


	21. Chapter 21

Coming back from the cave, after dealing with the bank robbery, Blake and Nelya went over to her apartment to have a well earned dinner.

Going to unlock her door, she discovered it was broken open. She turned to Blake to keep quiet, wide eyed indicating the door. He nodded and they both tensed, tired but ready for another fight that night.

Pushing the door slightly, Nelya took one step in and flicked the light on. Her living room was just as it was when she left, cluttered, but clean and normal. Blake went to check in the bedrooms, giving the all clear. Coming back, he saw her in the kitchen; she was leaning heavily on the table, a scrunched up piece of paper in one hand, the other holding her head.

There was a sacrificial dagger standing on the table next to her, the tip of the blade buried in the wood. He studied her form, approaching her cautiously, "Nelya, what's wrong?" He asked, placing a gentle hand on her back.

"You need to leave." Her voice was steely calm, level. But he heard a faint crack when she said 'leave'.

"What?" He demanded, confused, "Why?"

"Just go!" She shouted through gritted teeth, grabbing the dagger and holding it towards him, "Go before I do something I regret."

He held his arms up in a position of surrender, "Tell me what's happened, and I'll leave. What was on that note?"

"Blake, do as I say. I don't want to hurt you." Her words were harsh but she pleaded almost hysterically with her eyes.

"Nelya, we're friends aren't we?" He said, watching her face instead of the dagger, thinking about helping her instead of the many ways she could probably kill him without breaking a sweat.

She was silent for a long moment, refusing to look his way.

"Aren't we?" He repeated more forcefully.

A small nod. The dagger lowered a little.

"And friends help each other out. Tell me what the hell is going on and then I'll go and won't come back until you say, alright?" He slowly lowered his arms and took a step closer to her, intending to take the dagger from her.

She raised her head to meet his gaze then, her eyes flat and hard, "No."

Blake accepted defeat, he let out a weary sigh and passed a hand over his face, "Fine. But you're not going to deal with this alone. I'll come round tomorrow and we _will_ talk about whatever the hell this is about."

He waited for a quick retort, a witty comment, anything. Instead, he was met with stubborn silence. Sighing, he made his way to the front door. As he reached for the handle Nelya screamed a warning, "Blake, stop!"

Too late she alerted him when he turned to her. The door opened to reveal a tall man, face hidden under a deep hood. He raised a hand and brought it down on Blake, knocking the wind out of his lungs as he hit the floor.

A dozen more men filed in, each as deadly as the one that took him down. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Nelya shooting forward for the man, face a deathly mask, her assassin training revealing itself.

And he remembered thinking, 'That's my girl.'

* * *

Seeing Blake fall was the last thing she wanted to happen, the _very _last thing.

Charging at the men marching through her door, she leapt over Blake's body landing deftly and hooking her leg around the first man's calf. Her first mistake was not recognising who it was.

When he grabbed her foot and sprung up, she was rendered motionless by the other men. They were too many master assassins. Too much for her to handle.

They bound her hands and feet, sitting her on one of her kitchen chairs, doing the same to Blake. She watched them pick up his heavy, lagging body and tie him to the chair, looking for signs he was alright. Steady breathing and the odd twitch of a nerve in his neck reassured her.

The man that struck down Blake stood in front of her, "Anything to say little girl?"

Nelya sincerely hoped the many obsenities running round her head were being conveyed through her _very_ angry eyes. She knew this man, _Nathair_ he called himself. The name fit; a Scottish name meaning 'snake'.

And did he look like one.

His eyes were beady blue, constantly fixed and focused, with a permanent frown to match. Wearing a long black jacket and leather shoes, he cast a very intimidating persona.

Just not intimidating enough.

Nelya narrowed her eyes at him as she ran over her options. Blake was too out of it to run away, and if she tried to carry him, they'd be in deep trouble. There were a dozen men, each a trained assassin and almost as deadly as her. Almost. But she was definitely outnumbered.

In the end, she reached the painful conclusion of waiting this one out, wondering what Nathair was going to do next.

He nodded to the guy stationed behind Blake, who then touched two fingers to the crook of Blake's neck. She knew what they were doing, getting him out of his unconscious state. After applying slight pressure, Blake's head snapped back, eyes flying open and settling Nathair. Nelya saw his jaw clench, lips sneer, "Damn son of a-"

He was cut off, "Yes, yes," Nathair huffed, "Just gag him."

He turned towards Nelya, "Now let's figure this out..." He tapped his chin, glancing between his two captives, "He's special isn't he?"

Taking Blake's chin in his hand, he turned it up to face him, "A lover, eh? You've never had a lover before."

Nelya's eyes widened, she glanced at Blake, who was suddenly very interested in the floor. Nathair focused his attention on her, "My dear," he leered, "What will the Dragon have to say about this?"

He leaned back, letting go of Blake's face, "We've been watching you." He said matter-of-factly, "And we have seen the way you two look at each other. Deny it all you want, the Dragon will be very displeased with you."

He nodded to the men standing behind them, "I believe we should pay the Dragon a little visit, shall we?" The men reached round with a piece of folded white cloth and pressed it against their faces.

Nelya and Blake tried not to breathe in the chloroform soaked cloths, struggling against their grip, but to no avail.

Everything went black.


	22. Chapter 22

_Two days later:_

* * *

"Why haven't they woken yet?"

"They were each dosed with enough stuff to take down three guys. I'm not surprised."

A shuffle of feet away. A door screeching closed. Silence.

Blake's eyes were heavy, his mouth dry, head pounding. He struggled to understand his surroundings, the chain tying his wrist and ankles to a damp stone wall.

He turned his head to the left slowly, squinting to focus on Nelya's limp form. She was chained up more than him, both her ankles and hands kept tight together, "Nelya," he croaked, "Wake up."

She stirred, but was still out.

Lifting an arm, he shook it to rattle the chain, "Nelya! Wake _up_."

Her head sprang up, hair flying around her face and eyes bursting open. Seeing her chains, she moved them, causing a light chinking sound, "It could've been worse." She mumbled before smacking her dry lips together.

Noticing Blake, she squinted her eyes at him, "That you?" She asked.

"Yeah," he answered, glad she was finally awake, "You okay?"

She glanced at the ceiling, door and walls, her face grim, "Dandy." She paused, "I guess we should be getting out now." Sighing, she fiddled with the cuffs around her wrist

It took a moment for Blake to compute her words, "How are you so calm?" He shouted, "We've been stuck here for hell knows when and you're just fine with it?" Anger and frustration boiled in his chest as he increasingly felt more fed up, "You didn't tell me _anything. _Who the hell were those people? Why do they want you?"

Fiddling with her thumbs, she said nothing; opting to face away from him.

This, however, only aggravated him more.

"What are you keeping from me?"

She met his eyes, "Everything." Sighing once more, she spoke, "Two years after my mother had me, she had my little sister; Acacia. She wasn't interested in all this fighting business and only learnt basic defense."

Nelya picked up a flat, jagged rock as she said this, slipping it into the keyhole of her ankle cuffs with difficulty, "As my mother was considered a traitor, the League saw it fit to try and keep an eye on us. She didn't make it easy for them but sooner or later they found out about Acacia."

Blake began to see where this was going and shuffled up to sit closer to her.

Smiling sadly, her voice cracked, "Now she- _she_ was beautiful. The League saw this and was willing to drop this bounty on my mother's head should we give up my sister for some pansy 'Prince of the League' to marry."

Positioning her ankles directly in front of her, she slammed the metal of her wrist cuff into the rock, the lock cracking at the force.

"Long story short, they kidnapped her and in the fight, they killed her. And you want to know why?" She grit her teeth, "Because I was too much of a sap to take down the monster holding a knife to her throat." The cuffs sprang open and she kicked them away.

Handing the rock to Blake, he did the same to the cuffs on her wrist, hitting it with his own and breaking them apart, "They considered Acacia's death as due payment for my mother escaping. But they weren't finished there, no."

She broke his wrist cuff, "What do they do a couple of months after? Kidnap _me. _The new leader, the 'Dragon' wanted me to be his 'advisor' as I had a 'great potential to further the growth of the League'. He wanted me to kill, so I didn't. I fought, yes. But even when I busted out I didn't kill."

The cuffs on his ankles split and he tried to stand, his legs felt like jelly, "They've been looking for you ever since."

Nodding, she continued, "I swore if that ever happened to me again- to someone I care about- I would show them _no_ mercy. And it has."

Nelya moved towards the door, looking out of the small window on it. SheA dark stone corridor stretched in front of her, lined with dirty cells. Though she saw no one, that did not necessarily mean there was nobody there. Blake felt the whole thing with the cuffs was too easy, that, along with his shouting, seemed to scream 'trap'.

When she turned back, the look on her face confirmed his thoughts.

She quickly went to stand next to him and reached for his hand. He took hers and they waited as the door creaked open, a large man filling the new space.

* * *

His face disgusted her.

It was handsome enough; high cheekbones, bow shaped lips, a straight nose, thick brown hair and flawlessly creamy skin. It was too handsome. That was what she hated.

His eyes were a different matter. Soulless and red, almost reptilian in it's inhuman colour. It definitely matched his title of the Dragon.

"Zirnitra." She spat.

"My little champion." His voice, smooth and deep, slid over her skin. Blake tensed next to her.

Zirnitra held up a hand and the men behind him shuffled out, the door shutting closed. He kept his gaze held on Nelya, grinning, "Where have you been the past five years, champion?"

"Staying away from you and the insects you call people." Blake tightened his grip on her hand, reassuring her.

Taking a step closer, the Dragon swept his eyes down her form, "You've grown into such a beautiful young woman." He reached forward to touch her face but both her and Blake pulled away from him, "Don't touch me." She hissed.

"My, so much bark. How about your bite?"

"Perfectly capable of ripping you to shreds." Nelya straightened, her chin held high, outright challenging this man.

"You need only to say the word, champion." He gestured towards her, as if inviting her to a dinner rather than a death match.

"Mortem Chrystalli." She breathed.

He sneered, then nodded, "Finally."


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey guys, I'm going on holiday for the next couple of weeks so this might be the last chapter I post till I finish the story.**

**I am extremely sorry for the short notice and to make it up to you I'm going to write a sequel.**

**This is by far not the last chapter so don't worry! Blake and Nelya's first adventure isn't over yet.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"You know he's playing you, right?"

Blake's voice was low, he had refused to look at her, let alone speak to her, from the time she challenged Zirnitra to now; sitting in a small prep room just outside the arena where she would duel him. He was annoyed that she would just waltz into something like this. Blake knew she was good, but surely not _that_ good.

"Then I'm playing him right back."

He glanced up at her binding her hands in powdered white bandages, making him remember the times they sparred together. She had been quiet, the kind of quiet that meant she was serious- something he rarely saw in her.

Bolting up from where he sat, he stood directly in front of her, "You can't do this. You can't throw away your life for a slim chance at revenge."

Grabbing the neck of his top, she pulled him down to her level, "What makes you think I'll give my life so easily?" She whispered. "You once asked me to not hold back. And when I said I had secrets, I meant it." Letting go of him, she turned to pull a pair of boots on, "We are both getting out of this alive, I assure you."

Blake was silent for a moment, "What happens if there's a catch?" He asked.

She looked up from tying her laces, suddenly looking very tired, "There's always a catch."

"Then what?"

"You better ready yourself for a fight."

"Great."

* * *

Precisely eight minutes passed until the door of the room they were in opened. The guard took in Nelya's cuffed trousers and black vest she was given to wear and ushered them to the arena.

The long corridor made Blake increasingly on edge, his hands in tight fists. He looked over at Nelya, who was...smiling.

He blinked, looked again, then rubbed his eyes. There was no doubt about it, she was smiling. About to ask her why, they turned a corner and the question flew out of his head.

The arena.

A large platform stood in the middle of a pool, the water a mutrky green. There were stone steps built above the circumference of the pool, allowing a complete view of the platform. The sheer amount of sound rattled his teeth. Thousands of people sat on these steps; cheering, booing, hissing, spitting, shouting.

They stood on what seemed like an open box room, a narrow bridge connecting the room to the arena. Directly in front of them on the other side of the arena, sat Zirnitra; several buff men hovering around him tying what looked like heavy armour on him.

"Choose your weapon." Said the guard.

Blake turned to see Nelya examining a rapier; twisting it in her hand before shaking her head and putting it back. He watched as her eyes lit up when they rested on two broadswords. He vaguely remembered her saying she had a thing for twin broadswords; something about it being an elegant and deadly weapon. The blades were slightly curved and came as a matched set; the grip a mix of mahogany and metal.

She turned to him then, still smiling, "Wish me luck!"

"Pfft," he scoffed, "Like _you'll_ need it."

There was a glint in her eye as she looked at him before setting off along the bridge.

'Good luck,' he thought.

* * *

Zirnitra sauntered onto the field, his medieval armour chinking as he moved, "The terms?" He drauled.

"You win, I stay," She answered, head held high and all out grinning, "I win, you let us go."

"'Us'?" He asked, a sarcastic tweak to his voice.

Nelya froze, cursing internally.

"My sweet, a life for a life is the ruling in this game," he nodded at the room she just came from, "If he wants to get out, he'll have to fight his way out."

She laughed, a hollow sound, "Fine. A life for a life."

"I'm glad we're at an understanding." Zirnitra raised a hand and the entire stadium went silent; the only sound she could hear was the water lapping against the concrete below the platform.

He smirked at her, lowering his hand to draw his weapon; a longsword, the pommel fitted with rubies and the blade and guard pure gold. She blinked at it, wondering how he could have willingly restricted himself to such hefty, awkward amour _and_ a sword to match.

They both tensed, weapons and fighting stances at the ready. Nelya was relaxed, her swords slightly raised in both hands; building an immediate defense without showing off exactly where she was defending. She anticipated him to strike from above but kept attention to her sides and feet as well, running over the possibility of him hitting her from anywhere other than above.

Both were trained to be patient, and this was no exception. Waiting for the opponent to strike first was something ingrained into her mind: anticipate, read, react.

"I can wait all day, sweetheart." He called at her.

"Funny, so can I."

"Sadly, I have a meeting in an hour- so we'll have to speed things up a tad, no?" He cocked his head to the side, then lunged and everything visibly slowed.

Holding the sword straight on, he aimed the tip at her heart. Nelya grinned as she twisted out the way of the sword's path, the face of her right sword just grazing the edge of his. This left the back of his unguarded, and using the momentum to her advantage, brought her left sword down onto the back of his skull.

But at the last moment, he ducked underneath it and buried the tip of his longsword into the ground and jerking left, holding the grip but spinning, bringing his right leg out, intending to trip her.

Reading this, however, she jumped high, twisting her body round to slice her right sword across his face. Blood spurted from the gash in his cheek as he removed his sword from the stone and arced it up, trying to catch her mid-air. She was too nimble and touched the flat of both her swords against his own, creating a little platform for her to use to spring up again and land a good six feet away from him.

"You've improved impressively since I last saw you." He said, wiping the blood from his face then unbuckling a shoulder strap of his armour.

"Scared?" She mocked, fake pouting at him.

"Refreshed. I haven't fought like this in ages." Another buckle and another till the metal fell at his feet, forgotten, as he stepped over it. The black of his clothes underneath contrasting against his milky skin.

"'Ages'?" She repeated, "You're only a couple of years older than me."

"Yes." He conceded, "But what I say is true, cousin."

* * *

Nelya knew he would play that card. She depised the idea of even being _slightly_ associated with him, let alone related to him.

Zirnitra chuckled at the steely fury on her face, "It's a sad time when kinsmen fight with such fury in their hearts."

"Please. You _have_ no heart."

"Then how can you possibly kill a dragon without a heart?"

"Like this."

Bolting forward, she feinted left with her left sword but dove her right arm at the last second, slashing at his hip. He twisted away, his sword in his right hand and swept it across, towards her neck. Nelya quickly rolled between his legs, stabbing upwards with one sword and curving the other towards his thigh.

He may be faster without his armour on, but he couldn't get out of a compromising situation like this without shedding some blood. Quickly switching his sword hand, he used the longsword as leverage, kicking his right leg up.

Nelya slashed at his thigh, blood spurting, and manouvred her body just shy of his heel as he grunted at the sudden pain. She bent back in a crab-like position pushing her legs up and glancing the tip of her foot on his leg wound.

A sharp breath told her she got him and she flipped back up to face him, hands still clutching her swords. The gash was not deep enough to permanently put his leg put, but it did the job of momentarily incapacitating him.

Now the Dragon was angry.

With a desperate battle cry, he charged at her, the gash on his leg apparently slipping his mind as he swung his sword like a maniac. She watched as he visibly snapped, "I will not lose!" He screamed.

Easily parrying his onslaught, she twisted her body and connected her heal to the small of his back. Stumbling, Zirnitra picked himself up and attempted throwing a punch at her. But his action was in vain. She deftly caught his fist in one hand, slicing from the bottom left of his stomach to his right pectoral.

He fell to his knees, a river of crimson fluid dripping to the floor.

The arena was silent.


End file.
